


Trouble in Skyrim

by Bonymaloney (orphan_account)



Series: When I say "Go", get ready to Cast Soul Trap [1]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Magic, Parody, Robbie just lazes about eating in any fandom, but of Skyrim or of Lazytown?, i'm not sure, like Sportacus hunts and kills undead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Bonymaloney
Summary: A wandering adventurer arrives in Lazyhold to help Stephanie rescue her friends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.

Sportacus had left Riften and was making his way down towards the lake, nothing more on his mind than the rich smell of the pine needles and the prospect of some fresh fish, when the courier caught up with him. 

"You've come a long way, friend," he remarked when he saw the seal of Lazyhold. 

"The Jarl will do anything for his niece," the courier replied, catching her breath. "She's looking for sellswords all over Skyrim. Someone's in trouble."

"Someone's in trouble?"

The courier opened her mouth to reply, but Sportacus was gone. 

He arrived into Lazyhold a few days later. The town appeared prosperous and safe, surrounded by fertile land and a sweet smelling river. He made his way through the market, past the inn, and crossed the great bridge into the keep. The Jarl sat on his throne, a small, amiable looking man. A far more imposing woman with iron grey hair barred his way. 

"I am the steward to the Jarl. State your business here, wanderer."

"I came in answer to this letter from the Jarl's niece."

"Bessie!" A small, lively girl with vivid hair called out as she came dashing up to them. "I asked him to come here. He's a hero!" She turned to Sportacus. "Aren't you?"

"Let's just say... I'm an adventurer. But I like to help people. My name is Sportacus."

"Pleased to meet you! I'm Stephanie. I need your help with my friends. Normally, we play catch all over town, but just lately they've got really lazy. I think someone's put a spell on them!"

"Who would put a spell on children?"

"Well, there is this one guy, Roberto of Winterhold. He's a mage, and he's always yelling at us to stop running around. My uncle says we should leave him alone cause he makes such good magic swords for the guards, but I think he's a little scared of him."

"Hmm, let's go say hi to him then!" Sportacus was amused. Likely this mage had nothing to do with the children's behaviour, but it was always good to meet everyone in town, and if there was magic involved then he might come in handy. And if he really was responsible... Sportacus rested his hand on the hilt of Dawnbreaker and followed Stephanie out of the keep. 

Stephanie showed him her friends, worry alight in her face. A young Redguard boy on the cusp of adolescence, two smaller, dark haired children, and a little Nord, younger than the others and plump with puppy fat. Sitting about in the shade of a tree, they appeared dazed, barely responding to Sportacus and Stephanie's attempts to get their attention. 

"I see what you mean, Stephanie. Show me where I can find Roberto."

The mage's workshop looked like any other house in Whiterun. Sportacus knocked and let himself in. A tall dark-haired man in black robes with a faint magical iridescence, presumably Roberto, was leaving over a spell book. 

"Hi!" Sportacus announced cheerfully, and the man leapt a mile, whirling round, his hands raised in a defensive posture. 

Robbie was tired and annoyed, eyes aching from focusing so intently on the tome in front of him. Why did the ancients, in all their wisdom, invariably have such terrible handwriting? He didn't notice the knock at the door, didn't notice anything until the elf was right beside him, yelling in his ear. He raised his hands instinctively, ready to cast a few sparks and teach the intruder not to disturb him while he was working, until his eyes took in the man before him. 

Short and stocky, probably Bosmer, with wavy hair and blue eyes. Light elven armour, boots expensive but well-worn, a full looking pouch at his belt. A successful adventurer, potentially a good customer. A good, attractive customer. 

"Sorry, sorry!" The elf was saying. "I didn't mean to make you jump! I just need a bit of help with the children outside, and I thought a mage would be a good place to start. My name is Sportacus."

"Roberto, of Winterhold. That's quite an... Imperial name, if you don't mind me saying."

"Not at all! It's actually a nickname. My full name is Íþróttaálfurinn."

"If- what?"

"Íþróttaálfurinn, the tenth! My father was Íþróttaálfurinn the ninth, you might have heard of him. Housecarl to Laila Law-giver, the Jarl of Riften," he said proudly. 

"I've never been to Riften!" It came out too quickly. This Íþróttaálfurinn the ninth must have seen Robbie as a child, must have watched with that mixture of pity and contempt as Robbie and Glanni embraced through the bars. 

The fact that his father was head of the Thieves Guild was bound to go down badly with a do-gooder like Sportacus, never mind the fact that Glanni had thrown him out when he'd suggested that buying up cheap swords, enchanting them and selling them on was actually an easier way to turn a profit than stealing. He'd washed Robbie's mouth out with soap and packed him off to the College of Winterhold, and apart from the fact that bandits left him alone on the road, that was the last he'd heard of Glanni. 

Sportacus saw Roberto's face fall and worried he'd spoken out of turn.

"It's ok if you haven't been to Riften! That wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about anyway. I'm worried about the children outside. The Jarl's niece thinks there might be a spell on them."

"Well there is. They kept getting underfoot, so I slowed then down a bit... Oh, don't look so shocked!" Roberto went on, irritable. "I've got a working forge in here, you know? It's not safe for them." 

Sportacus was appalled. "Couldn't you just tell them to keep out?"

"Oh, great idea!" Roberto sneered at him. "It's not like I didn't try that. They wouldn't listen. They are all just obsessed with Sweetroll."

There was a clanking sound and in unnatural cry. Sportacus felt his hair stand on end. Something was emerging from the shadows at the back of the shop, a... wolf?

The automaton was shaped like a wolf, but it was bronze and steel and heavy, and he could see the eldritch purple glow of a soul gem as it lashed its tail and bared it's metal teeth in an awful grin. 

"Aww, he knows his name! Good boy Sweetroll!" Roberto was beaming like a proud father.

"The children... they want to be near that thing?"

"Yes, and they get my papers out of order and disturb my rest... and like I said, it's dangerous. They could enchant themselves if they're not careful."

"So... You enchanted them instead?"

The Imperial had the decency to look abashed. 

"Fine, fine," he grumbled, and scratched his automaton behind the ears. "I can reverse the spell. But I need some ingredients... Maybe you could go find them for me?"

The slyness of his expression made Sportacus chuckle. Despite himself, he found himself quite liking Roberto of Winterhold. 

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know what I was looking for... But I'll come with you, help you get what you need."

Robbie rolled his eyes and huffed, but secretly he was pleased. He could easily have reversed his own enchantment, but with a big hunk of muscle like Sportacus watching his back, he could go much further afield than he usually dared when gathering ingredients, pick up some of the real rare stuff. He gathered his satchel and his staff, left Sweetroll behind to guard the house, and they set off. 

A Khajiiti caravan had pitched up at the entrance to the city, and as Robbie looked on, Sportacus greeted the guard, a young male with furry shoulders almost as broad as Sportacus', with a big grin and an embrace. Robbie didn't agree with the Nord ban on caravans within the city walls. Sitting about on rugs making money seemed to him a perfectly admirable way of living ones life, and it wasn't as if he was above the occasional bit of skooma. Still, it was a strange friendship. 

"How do you know the Khajiit?"

"Kharjo? I rescued him from a tree." Sportacus didn't appear to be joking. 

"He's... a pretty big cat?"

"It was a pretty big tree."

Pondering that answer, they headed along the road. Robbie didn't notice the gloom that seemed to be falling unnaturally early, the way the little animals and birds surrounding them fell silent, but as they reached the eastern watchtower, Sportacus suddenly drew his sword. 

The attack was immediate and horrifying, the eerie screams of the dragon, the stench of it, the way it made the air crack with powerful blows of its wings. The guards in the tower fired arrow after arrow at it, but Robbie could see that two of them already lay dead. His whole being was focused on the energy required to cast invisibility over himself. The fact that his hand reached for Sportacus' was quite unconscious, and afterwards Robbie himself couldn't have said whether he was trying to include the elf under the spells protection, or just seeking his comfort. Either way, Sportacus wasn't there.

He was running towards the dragon, sword in hand, and that was such a bad direction to be running in that it actually made Robbie's head hurt a little. The dragon was on the ground, ignoring the arrows bouncing from its hide as it gnawed at the corpse of one of the guards. Robbie' jaw dropped as he watched the idiot elf actually leaping into the air, flipping over and using all his momentum to bring his sword down on the beast's wing. It shrieked and took to the air, lagging to one side now, and Sportacus was laughing, seemingly oblivious to the fact that dragons could spit fire... 

He cast his strongest spells of destruction, not sure if it was doing any good as the dragon lumbered towards him, unprotected as he was by any armour, and suddenly it was horrifyingly close, he heard its jaws snap shut against his robes and felt himself lifted into the air, shaking sickeningly side to side, and he screwed his eyes tightly shut and waited for the pain as its hot breath bathed his body...

"Hey! Food is for growing, not for throwing!"

Robbie was on his back, gasping for breath, but as he propped himself on his elbows he saw Sportacus swing his sword again, and Robbie realised how strong he really must be. His armour and weapons were unenhanced, he didn't seem to be carrying any magic amulets that Robbie could detect, and yet he was able to drive the sword through the scales and skin of the dragon, biting into the big vessels at the side of its neck, damn near half beheading the thing. It screamed and thrashed, and then it was over. 

Robbie got to his feet. Sportacus was pale and shaking, and his eyes... Was he crying? The elf cleaned his sword on the grass, then as he turned away and made to walk off there was a sudden rushing sound. Robbie felt his hair standing on end, and he was aware of powerful magic. A whirling beam of energy left the dragon and went into Sportacus, who stiffened and shook himself like a dog, then kept walking. 

Robbie pocketed a few scraps of dragon scale, hitched up his robes and ran after him. 

"Did you see that?" he panted. "That... That was a dragon's soul! You don't even seem that surprised! I suppose things like that just happen to you all the time?" Sportacus flinched. "You know the Nords have a legend about people like you? Plus, the scales and the bones are worth a fortune. You could make out like a bandit - not that someone like you would be a bandit, of course," he back-pedalled weakly, seeing the look on Sportacus' face. 

"Roberto." The Bosmer gave a big sigh. "Roberto, I... Recently I was in Helgen. You heard about what happened there? I couldn't save them... I couldn't save anyone. I don't want to see any more dragons." His shoulders dropped and he kept walking. 

"You think you've got it bad? Look at what that thing did to my robes!"

Sportacus grit his teeth, then he grinned, and suddenly he was laughing, and the whiteness of his teeth and the joy in his voice made Robbies stomach do flips. 

"I'll get you some new robes, Roberto. It's the least I can do. You saved my life, after all."

"Call me Robbie, if you like, we did kill a dragon together. Mostly me, but you did help, so if you come back to Lazyhold with me I'll unfreeze the brats and buy you a mead. Sound good?"

"Robbie!"

"Ok, ok, kids, not brats. And two meads?"

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe TBC, if I can think of enough relevant plot, and enough people beside me find this in any way entertaining.


End file.
